Lovely War

by Julie Berry

POOR MORTALS. I feel for them. That evening in Paris couldn’t be described in its full richness, its second-by-split-second splendor, not if they spent decades trying to tell it. And that’s just one of their nights. They rack them up by the thousands, yet they still get up each morning and tie their shoes. You have to admire them. They are so very brave to keep on living.